


I Will Not Let You Down (Second Chances)

by remiparker



Category: SEAL Team (TV)
Genre: Brotherhood, Team as Family, What-If, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-06 09:34:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18848365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remiparker/pseuds/remiparker
Summary: *a "what-if" story* Shaw disbands Bravo. The former members try adjust to their new reality. But everything that happens next will prove that they are best together than apart. *written before S2 finale* COMPLETE





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> New Story Time! After talking with a member over on FF, I decided to post this separately from my "Brothers" collection. As of now I think it will be about five or six chapters long. Not everything in here will be on canon point with the show, which is why I hope to have it finished before the season two finale screws with what I wrote. I hope you enjoy!

Jason Hayes was the last person to shuffle into the briefing room that cloudy Saturday morning. It was Bravo's day off, a day off that felt weeks late, considering all they've been through in the last few months. And it only seemed to pile on as he spots Commander Shaw standing at the front of the room, conversing with a few members of brass.

Members they never saw in person.

Unless…

"That isn't good." Jason says as he grabs a bottle of water and sits next to Ray Perry. "Really not good."

"No shit, Sherlock. They've been muttering 'hush hush' things since they got here."

"How longs that been?"

Ray shifts in his seat. "Haven't stopped since I've been here."

Sonny Quinn leans forward across the table, whispers to the two leaders of Bravo. "Shouldn't Spenser be here? I mean, if this ain't a mission but something to do with Bravo-"

"Sonny's right. Clay should be here." Trent Sawyer says. He is spinning a pen between his fingers, trying—failing—to keep his mind from wondering to all of the horrible possibilities for this early meeting.

Brock Reynolds adds, "I don't like this."

"All right, all right. Settle in." Lt. Commander Blackburn speaks in a voice more stern than normal as he turns to the table of Bravo Team. "This meeting will be brief, so let's not waste any more time. Commander Shaw?"

"Thank you, Lt. Commander Blackburn. In my time watching Bravo Team, I have noticed things that simply cannot be ignored." Shaw begins. "I have spoken with various people, people in the room and in DC, including Lt. Commander Blackburn about options going forward. Simply put, Bravo Team is a mess. From poor leadership to failed mission executions time and again. I have given this team more than enough chances to work the problems, to fix the problems, but you have yielded no results. The only solution to the glaring problems is to disband Bravo Team. Effectively immediately."

"What?!"

"That's a load of bulls-"

"You can't just come in here and-"

"Why would you think there's a problem with lead-"

"No!"

"That's enough!" Eric snaps as the team hurls words at Shaw and the rest of brass, while still being (slightly) respectful of their standing rank. "This is not Commander Shaw asking Bravo Team to disband. This is him telling you Bravo Team has been disbanded. For good. Alpha, Charlie, Delta and Echo will remain our Tier 1 teams from this point on. You've each been assigned to aforementioned teams—separately."

Everyone sulks back into their seat, while the look of anything but defeat remains on their faces as Eric waits a minute before he continues. "Except for you, Master Chief Hayes. You'll be under Master Chief Syre on Green Team, learning new methods for leading Tier 1 operators. And that's where you'll stay if or until you prove you are ready to lead your own team again. You all have until the end of the day to transfer your items to your new cages. Report to your new, respective teams at 0500 tomorrow. Dismissed."

#

"This don't feel real."

Brock tips the small glass in his hand back, downing the last of his third—fourth?—shot of Daniels. "Don't feel anything at this point." He mumbles as he waves at the bar tender to slide him another. But before the woman can pour another shot, Trent waves her off. "Buzzkill."

"You've had enough, man."

"Not nearly enough." Reynolds runs both hands down his scruffy face, sighs deeply. "I haven't passed out yet."

"Quit your sulking. 0500 will be here before you know it." Jason says as he throws a dart. It lands a ring shy of the center. "You need to make a good first impression for Delta. Gotta have Cerb lookin' good too."

It was late evening, and Bravo Team—for one more night at least—was grabbing one more round together before they're lives changed forever. Jason tried to reach Clay, tell him the news in person and hang out with the guys, but the kid mentioned something about therapy and quickly hung up.

Maybe he heard the news before Hayes could break the news. They all wondered if the kid would be assigned to a team, or if the Navy would shelf him until they were sure he was 100%. Can't have an operator on a gimpy leg, now can they?

And if he was good enough to be placed on a team, which one of them would be working with a familiar face from 0500 on?

"Is it true those guys have been pining for Cerb for years?" Sonny asks as he munches on a handful of nuts.

"Yeah. Just Cerb, though." Brock mumbles. "They aren't too thrilled that we're a package deal."

"Hey, they're lucky to be getting you. Either of you. Their jobs are about to get a helluva lot easier, that's for damn sure." Ray takes the offered darts from Jason and tries his turn at the board. He then pauses and adds, "Well, maybe not as lucky as Alpha getting Mr. Medic and all, but still. Lucky."

"Shut up." Trent says as he hangs his head. "It was just luck of the draw."

"I heard Derek wouldn't stop until he got the approval for you to go over. Apparently they needed someone like you."

"I'm sure their medic was just fine."

"Not as good as you." Sonny smiles. "Jus sayin'."

"Yeah, sure. Echo should be happy. Though it might take them some time to understand your thick, southern drawl."

Sonny throws a nut at Trent, who simply feigns injury. "Think Beau will give Ray some slack for joining Charlie? It ain't no secret that he and Jase don't like each other. Might put you at a disadvantage."

"I can handle whatever Fuller throws at me."

"Are you gonna glide along, stick with being the 2IC? You and Fuller are the same rank, someone will have to take a backseat on the team…"

The room lapses into silence. Trent places a glass of water in front of Brock, Sonny works on emptying his bowl of nuts. Ray stares at the bullseye but can't bring himself to throw the remaining darts in his hand.

"Hey." Jason strolls over, a fresh round of bottles in hand. "Look, I wanted to say-"

Brock starts to shake his head. "Boss, don't-"

"I'm sorry. For failing you all."

"Jason-" Sonny tries to interject, but he doesn't get far.

"No, no. I need to say this." Hayes hands off the bottles to the guys, except for Brock who seems to be happy with his water, then continues. "Shaw may be wrong about a lot of things, but he was right about one thing. I failed you as a leader, and that was one thing I swore I'd never do. But… it happened. I know we're going separate our ways, that Bravo Team is no more. But… we'll always be Bravo Team. No matter what, okay? Different teams and different schedules, deployments, that isn't going to change. We…" Jason points to Ray, then Sonny, then Trent, then Brock, and the empty seat they left for Clay, "we are Bravo. Always."

"Always." Ray is the first to raise his bottle, and the others join in. "Always."

#

Clay sits on the edge of the bed, in the all too white hospital room. He looks around, tries to pass the time by any means necessary, but it still drags by. So, he waits. And waits, and waits, and waits for the doctor to return with the latest results on his leg. He had just glanced at his watch for the umpteenth time when the door clicks and swings open.

Surprisingly, the doctor is smiling.

Well. As much as a doctor can smile that is.

"All things considered, you have come a remarkable way, Petty Officer Spenser."

"I'm good to go?" Clay finds himself leaning forward, waiting to hear the doctor to say the words.

"Simply put, yes. You are cleared for all drills, meaning you can start getting back into operator shape. But I see no reason why you should take it easy." The doctor says. "You know your limits, and you've work hard to get to this point. All that work has paid off. You'll be back on the Teams in no time."

Clay nods, relief washing over him like a tidal wave. He thanks the doctor and heads home, thrilled to be back officially.

Little does he know, timing is everything.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments and kudos. Here's the next chapter! Enjoy and let me know your thoughts!

Nine Weeks Later

Jason stood with his arms crossed, watching the newest wave of Green Team members work their way through the course. Every now and then he would stop, write something down on a clipboard he had tucked under his arm, then back to the men. On this particular evening, he couldn't help but noticed everything they did wrong. Literally. Everything.

"Time!" Master Chief Syre yells as the men stop and the lights flick on in what is a mock set up of a bombed town. "Excellent execution, men, but you were four seconds slower than your last run through. Master Chief Hayes, how might Green Team fix that mistake?"

Hayes walks over, not bothering to lift his shades even though the sun was nearly set by now. "Well, for starters, it wasn't perfect. Which is why they were four seconds slower."

"I was watching them, Hayes. Nothing went wrong."

"Maybe that's the problem." Jason doesn't comment on how long its been since Syre operated—a few decades at least—and that they were looking through two different lenses in that regard. "Petty Officer Spenser. Tell us why you were four seconds slower."

Clay steps forward, ignores the looks the other men are giving him. It is no secret that he was on Bravo Team with Jason, that he is still trying to work his way onto a team after recovering from the blast that tore up his leg. It just meant he had more to prove. "Upon breech of the target building, we were too spread out. It slowed the time we had apprehending the HVT and ultimately our move to exfil."

"And how might we solve that problem?"

"Tighter formations upon the breech. Sir."

"Tighter formations upon breech." Jason turns to Syre. "If the breech isn't tight, if someone lags behind, the entire unit lags behind, giving the HVT has time to grab a weapon or escape. There may be casualties. The op may fail. Run it again!"

The rest of the week and another one after it was much of the same for Jason. He would watch Green Team, Syre would question his tactics, Spenser would prove a point from the ground, repeat. When Jason walked towards the training area for the day, he quickly noticed that a certain member was nowhere to be seen. Syre didn't give him time to question Spenser's whereabouts as they jumped into training right away. The nagging feeling in the pit of Jason's stomach only grew as the morning drew into afternoon, and when they braked for lunch, he found out why.

"Master Chief Hayes."

Jason turns at the sound of his name, surprised that Blackburn used his title. Guess Shaw got onto him about that. "Lt. Commander Blackburn. What can I help you with?"

"Your presence has been requested."

"Requested?" Odd. No one requests he does anything these days. Ordered? Yes. Not requested. Regardless, Jason follows Eric through base, and into a briefing room. He is met with a surprise once inside.

Ray is the first one to see him, followed by Brock and Sonny. They waited a few seconds, expecting to see Trent and Clay join them, but Blackburn only gives the men a moment to exchange pleasantries—as Shaw made sure they never saw, let alone worked together while on base—before he cleared his throat.

"Sorry to break up this reunion, but I'm afraid the meeting is about something that affects all of you. This is Lt. Commander Vess. Go ahead, sir." The guys turn their attention to the video screen at the mention of the Lt. Commander and wait for him to begin.

"I'm not going to beat around the bush on this, so forgive me for being blunt as I get to the point. At 2100 hours local time three days ago, Alpha Team entered this village in search for their target, HG, a POI we believe has great intel about terror networks in the region. By the time they were in the middle of the village, around the 2103 mark, strong enemy forces ambushed them. The target escaped into the mountainous forest amidst the madness and Alpha was forced to retreat." Says Vess as images and distorted video flash across the screen.

"That's Trent's team." Sonny mutters, mostly to himself, though he is sure everyone but Vess heard him.

Vess continues, "We were able to establish comms with Alpha not long after contact, but lost them here, 8 klicks from their secondary exfil point. There were contacted again, took some hits. Before making it exfil along the way, they caught the target. However, in the ensuing firefight, we lost two men."

"Nononono…" the room hung in silence for a few seconds.

Ray speaks up, clasping his hands behind his head. "Do we know who?"

"Petty Officer Spenser-" there is a collective "WHAT!" as the Lt. Commander adds "and Petty Officer Sawyer. They kept the enemy at bay while the rest of Alpha was loaded into the chopper, but an RPG forced them to take off without the other two members of Alpha."

"Shit." Brock shakes his head, trying to understand everything that is happening. "What was Clay doing with Alpha? Isn't he still on Green Team, Jase?"

"Not as of five days ago. Someone pushed for him to be on this op. Said his language skills in the region would be a big help." Says Eric. "Not that there was much talking."

Jason speaks in a low tone. "No disrespect, sir, but why the hell are you telling us this? We aren't a team. We can't do recoveries." Man. It pained him to say recovery instead of rescue.

"They aren't dead."

"Sir?"

"Petty Officer Spenser has been in contact with us for the duration. He can't hear us, but his messages are coming in clear. He sounds banged up, and is not very forthcoming with any injuries he may have sustained but he has continued to check in every two hours."

"And Sawyer?" asks Brock.

"Unclear. From what Spenser has said, they were separated when the RPG hit. He has since been searching for Alpha Four. Nothing so far." Everyone can hear Vess say something to a person off screen, and repeats it to them. "Alpha took a lot of hits, but due to Four, they'll all survive to fight another day. They can't go back out, and my bosses won't green light another Tier 1 team to come to country. Too many unknown variables."

"So, you want to send us."

"The not Tier 1 Team?"

Vess nods. "This would be a black op, as black as they come. I can't force you to go in if anyone of you say no-"

"We're in." says Ray.

"Hell yeah we are!" Sonny stands, looks at his brothers.

"Let's go!" Brock says standing up straighter.

"Yeah." Jason turns to Blackburn, then to the rest of the guys. "Let's go get our boys."

#

Somewhere

He trudges through the forest, head on a swivel as he moves forward, searching for anything that may want to kill him, but hoping for a sign of his brother.

He's found nothing, but fortunately the enemy hasn't found him either. He doesn't want to stop, can't afforded to stop, but darkness will arrive quickly, and he can't be trapped in the open (again). Shelter. He needs to find shelter, gather his bearings, make a plan-

He never saw the cliff.

Didn't have time to prepare himself.

The best he could do is wait to stop falling.

#

Elsewhere

He had to hold on. Just a little while longer. He paused, looked around, kept going. Forced himself to keep walking.

The sun had set, it was dark, and he was getting colder. Yeah, can't stop moving. But he kept going. Had to get to higher ground, find a place to rest, make a plan, find a way to contact the others.

Something catches his attention up ahead. He can see lights, hears voices talking, though he can't fully make out what is being said. That's probably because the ringing in his ears won't stop. Regardless, he readies himself. Weapon raised, he crouches low behind a tree and some grass. He bites back a wince of pain and holds his breath.

And waits.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who are still reading, and the new readers who've stopped by. I am beginning to drop hints as to what each member is whumped with, so if you spot it please let me know. :) Things are officially getting serious... enjoy!

The green terrain was different from the dusty places they worked before, but the reason is more important than ever, while being more precarious than previously thought. The team (formerly) known as Bravo trekked through the thick trees and damp earth, coming up on the exfil site where Alpha was separated from Clay and Trent, hoping to pick up their trails.

Before they hit the ground, Vess informed them Spenser missed his last check in. And subsequently the next three after that. Everyone was worried, but none more than the men on the ground. It took every bit of training they had to keep from entering the situation blind. Now as the midday afternoon sun beat down through the thick canopy of trees, Jason ordered the team to a halt.

"Rest here, sixty seconds." He says while pulling a map out of his pocket. "Gotta stay hydrated."

Sonny huffs, takes a couple sips of his water. "It ain't no secret that I hate the jungle-"

"This is technically a forest-" interjects Brock.

"-but there's gotta be a way to speed things along. Ways that don't include walking into areas I can hardly see."

"Hence the machete." Jason folds the map, makes a face. "Once we get a few more klicks north, the area gets rougher. And it turns from a forest to a jungle."

"What the hell is the difference?!"

Ray walks over with a shake of his head. "We're going as fast as we can, Sonny."

Quinn caps his bottle, adjusts his weapon. "It'd go quicker if a certain canine were here."

Brock doesn't miss the mild glare Sonny sends his way. Truth be told, they all knew it would go quicker if Cerberus were there with them, but Brock did not want to risk bringing the dog into this climate. Especially once the terrain switched to more mountainous cliffs and rocky earth.

"That's enough. Let's go."

Soon—but not as quickly as some would have liked—they arrived at Alpha's exfil site. Though they didn't get their hopes up, seeing the small clearing scorched black and riddled with bullet holes made them stop short.

But they pushed through.

Once the area was swept, Jason led the guys forward and into the open, eyes glued to the ground, reading what happened just days ago. He kicks a rock. "The rain washed a lot of stuff away. Tracks, any trace of which direction they could've gone in the heat of the moment. Gone. Dammit!"

"Yo, Jase! Over here!" calls Brock. Jason jogs over, while Ray and Sonny keep watch. "Looks like someone went through this brush here, broke through the tree line in a hurry. Then there's another trail across the clearing. I didn't see it until I was on my knees because it's so low."

Jason gets down on one knee, squints at the area Reynolds spotted. "Yeah. No way to tell if its Trent or Clay. Could've been enemy crawling—or running—away."

"And no way to tell it isn't." Brock stands, motions to the area, adds, "It's the first trail we're found since we landed. That's gotta mean something, right?"

"Yeah." Jason thinks for a minute. "Two trails, opposite sides of Alpha's exfil. We can't follow both."

"The hell we can't!" Sonny calls from across the clearing. "If there are two trails then we split up. We can cover more ground, get to them before-"

"We aren't geared for it, Sonny! This jungle is thick and still crawling with enemy. We don't know the condition of Trent or Clay and our med pack is one split four ways!"

"Jason-"

"What if we split up, huh? And two of us reach Clay, but we can't give him pain killers because the other two took the only morphine we have? Or if we found Trent, but we can't splint his arm because the others have the supplies?"

"And what if we don't? What if we come on just Clay, and it turns out he's fine but Trent is still out there lost, maybe even de-"

"Don't you dare say it-"

"Guys, just stop! We're no good to either Trent or Clay arguing like school kids!" Ray yells as he gets in-between Quinn and Hayes. "We can play the 'what if' game til kingdom come, but it won't change the facts. We knew coming in Clay wasn't with Trent, we have to assume they're still separated. Out best chance—their best chance—is to split up. Tackle both problems at once."

Hayes lets out a low sigh, hangs his head. He doesn't want to prove Shaw right, not again, not when Trent and Clay's lives are on the line. "No. It's too big a risk."

"This job is full of risks, brother. We have to try."

Knowing Perry is right, Jason nods. "Okay. Even out the supplies best you can. Sonny, you're with me. We'll follow this trail while Ray and Brock follow the other. Stay on comms check every hour."

#

Somewhere

Hours passed before the men moved on. He allowed himself a short time to rest, having no intention to actually sleep. But his body couldn't go on without it. He quickly gives in.

By the time he woke in a panic, the sun was higher and the air thicker. The coldness he felt had changed to a sticky sweat that clung to his soul. He was wet all over, and not just from the high humidity levels or occasional rain. And the ringing in his ears is still there. He looks around from his spot beneath the tree and deems it safe enough to move.

So move he does.

All the trees and foliage look the same, he swears he hears animals all around him, stalking him, but he keeps going and tries to ignore the games the jungle is playing. It is slow at first, but he's making ground. He munches on an MRE, forces himself to sip on water... just enough to keep him going.

That's when he hears the jumbled voices again.

Slowing slightly and peering around a tree, he sees three men leaning over a cliff with weapons aimed down. He gets a little closer, tries to make out what they were saying, but it was hard. Then he heard one word he knew without a doubt, no matter the language spoken, as it cut through the ringing in his head.

American.

He raised his weapon and fired before he knew what he was doing.

The men fell, not knowing what hit them and he sprung forward towards the cliff-face and looked down.

The pond at the bottom of the hill was small and shallow enough to where he could see the makings of rocks and wood. The outcropping sloped down into a hill, muddy, which is probably how all the rain water collected at the bottom. He can't bring himself to yell his brother's name... just seeing him not moving was hard. He had to get down somehow.

He swings his legs over the edge, slides down and lands with a small splash in the water below. Then he's running—wading—as best he can through knee high water, sending up a prayer that he isn't too late.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon…" he mutters as he reaches the muddy shore. "Please…please."

His brother lay still, face-down in a shallow, drying puddle. The side of his head was red with blood and caked with mud, making the redish-brown color streak down his neck and stain his collar as well as the ground.

And he couldn't tell if it was a little bit of blood... or a lot.

Clay falls to his knees, unable to keep the worse from appearing in his mind, but still hoping for the best as he reaches out to check Trent's pulse.

Something moves and out of surprise, Spenser rears back on his heels. He then stands to his feet, looks closer, tires to clear his cloudy mind of what he is seeing. He gulps.

There, coiled tightly by Trent's shoulder, is a snake.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome new readers and thank you to those who are still following along. Keep and eye out for what happened in this chapter... may be important later. ;p Enjoy!

"You're awful quite." Ray says as he and Brock press forward. In the thick of the jungle—yes, jungle, not forest—there was no way of knowing how far they've traveled since splitting off from Jason and Sonny. It's been almost three hours, and they were due for another check-in soon, but if Perry is being honest, Brock's silence was driving him nuts. "I mean, more quiet than normal. It's freaking me out, dude."

"I don't have anything to say."

"I call bull. What's on your mind?"

Brock makes a face, looks down and steps over a log. "Nothing."

"Bull times two." Ray carefully follows the path Brock is making, but he isn't going to let this conversation go. He knows why the canine handler is so silent. "Sonny didn't mean it. You know how he gets when he's dropped in a place that houses more of his fears than the San Diego Zoo."

"I'm not mad at Sonny." Thwack. "I'm mad that he's right." Thwack! "We should have brought Cerb."

Ray is shaking his head before Brock is finished with his sentence. "Jase would never ask you to risk Cerb's life just to rescue Trent and Clay. The jungle is no place for a dog. No matter how badly we could use his nose right now."

"Yeah. 'Least then we'd know if we were walking in circles or not," Brock stops, points his machete to a very large tree. "because I'm pretty sure that is the same damn tree we passed an hour ago."

"No, it's not."

Reynolds walks over to the tree, circles the trunk twice, then points. Ray joins him, squints at the chipped bark. "So?"

"So? So, I did this... an hour ago!"

Ray thinks back to the last sixty minutes, then recalls the moment Brock is referring to. "I thought you were killing a snake or something."

"No, I've been leaving small marks on trees because we lost the trail and this jungle is too fu-"

Ray keys his comms while Brock continues his (slightly muffled) outburst of frustration.

#

"I hate this, Jason."

"I know."

Sonny swings his machete back and forth, cursing as he does. "No, not this. I mean, yes, I hate this too, but I hate that Clay and Trent are out here somewhere and we're just walkin' around aimlessly with no clue where they are."

Jason feels the same way. Hell, they all do, there was no hiding that fact. But them hiking through the jungley-forest was still the best they could do. "Don't give up hope, Sonny. We'll find them. They'll be okay."

"Yeah. Yeah, I hope so." Sonny continues to lead them through the damp jungle, cutting down branches, walking around trees. At one point, they have to climb over a rotting log. Quinn tries not to grimace as he places his hand on a pointy and squishy tree trunk that should _not_ be pointy and squishy, then propels himself over. "This sucks."

_"Hey, Jase?"_ Ray's voice cracks to life through the comms. Right on time.

Jason replies, "Yeah."

_"We lost the trail_." Says Ray _. "We're walking in circles here."_

Well… crap. "Did you find anything before you lost it?"

_"Negative. The brush it too thick to see but a foot or two ahead of us. They could've turned another direction and we just walked right past it."_

"Okay. We aren't having much luck either." Jason pauses, thinks for a moment. "Let's meet up at the river, reassess, make a plan."

_"Yeah, that sou-"_ Ray's next words were cut off but the sound of gunfire. Through the thick foliage it was hard to tell where it came from, but there was no denying that familiar pop.

"Ray? You hear that?" Jason and Sonny wait a few seconds.

There are no more shots.

And Ray doesn't reply.

"Ray? Ray, come in!" pause. "Brock? Guys?!"

#

_Why'd it have to be a snake?_

Clay looks at Trent's still form, then around to the thickly wooded area and back. The snake wasn't really large, but it wasn't exactly small either. And it was right next to Trent, as if considering whether it wanted to slither up onto the SEAL or not. Spenser weighs his options, brings information about local wildlife to the forefront of his mind.

"Not in the States, not a cottonmouth." He mutters as he leans closer, taking in the color and design of the creature. And since most—keyword on most—water snakes are nonvenomous, he'd just have to take his chances in getting it away from Sawyer. Grabbing a long stick, Clay reaches out and tries to pick the snake up.

It moves away from him—closer to Trent's motionless body.

He tries again. This time it stills, and Clay is able to pick it up. The bug-eyed serpent seemingly enjoys the free ride from the human to a log that rests in a puddle far, far away. Clay lets out a shaky breath as he jogs back to his brother and quickly places two fingers to his exposed neck.

It's faint, but there. Clay whispers, "Trent? Hey, Trent? C'mon, Four, wakey-wakey."

At first, nothing happens. Then Sawyer begins to stir slightly. Thankfully the puddle he was laying in dissipated quickly, else his sudden inhale of air would have been nothing but murky water and mud.

"Easy, easy, don't try to move."

"'Lay?" Trent said his (almost) name in a gruffy voice, but it was there. Even with the (slowly) fading ring in his ears, there was no denying it. "Ahh… dammit-"

"Hold still will ya!" Clay tries to keep Trent from moving, but the older man is having none of it.

"'m fi'e." comes a mumbled reply. Trent wavers as he tries to push himself up onto his arms, halts when the world starts moving. "S'tp mo'ving the gro'nd."

Clay helps Trent into a seated position, kneels down in front of him and holds up his hand. "How many fingers?"

Trent squints, chuckles. "A… number."

Clay whips out a flashlight, turns it on. "Follow the light."

Trent slams his eyes shut.

"Concussion. Great."

"I've… 'ad worse…"

"I know you've had worse, buddy." Spenser sighs. "Okay, we need to get some place that isn't so out in the open. Does your radio work?"

Trent doesn't appear to have heard the question, so Clay doesn't press it. He'll give Trent a thorough look over, check all their gear once he's found some shelter. Then he can figure out how to signal base that they're alive and in need of exfil.

Spenser stands and helps Trent to his feet, then reaches down and picks up Four's weapon that had thankfully washed up on shore with him. Doing so jostled some leaves, and another snake slithers out of the camouflage pile. But not before shooting out and biting Clay on his right hand.

"Sonofa-!" he bites his cheek, not wanting to alert any one of their presence. Sawyer looks over with glassy eyes, wondering what happened, but not coherent enough to ask what was wrong. Clay shakes his right hand and readies his weapon, while grabbing a hold of Trent with his left.

Yep. He finally understands why Sonny hates the jungle so much.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like this is going to top off at seven chapters now, if my current plan works out the way I want. Lots of action this chapter, different things that will be problematic for a certain "not tier one team". Enjoy!

The shots came on suddenly, but as soon as they began, they stopped. Brock and Ray look at each other, wondering if that was the enemy, or their brothers.

"Jase?" Static. "Jason, come in. Sonny?"

"No way we lose comms that quick. Gotta be interference somewhere."

Ray adjusts his radio, brings his weapon a little higher. "You mean the thick canopy isn't enough?"

They continue through the growth, towards the river and on the lookout for either fighters or their brothers. They were really hoping for the latter… but got the former instead.

"Stop. Stop, stop, stop. Get down." Brock was the first to see the men, huddled in a small circle, looking at something in their hands. "What are they holding?"

Ray takes a few steps to his right for a better angle. "Scrambler… and a radio. That's probably why Spenser's check-ins stopped coming through. Why our comms cut out back there."

"Which mean he's within range of this thing. He's close."

"We can hope." There were five men, and they were all armed. Outnumbered, Ray says, "We'll have to pick them off. Don't let 'em call for help. No firearms."

"Copy that." Brock slings his weapon around his back and pulls out a bowie. Ray does the same and they wait.

One of the men steps by a tree to relieve himself, and Ray takes him down before he can reach for his belt. He repeats his actions in a similar fashion, this time coming up behind the enemy and slitting his throat.

Brock circles the others, tosses a stick to catch their attention, and waits for them to come towards him. Two of the men walk towards the trees, and he stabs one in the leg to bring him down, them pulls the knife out and jams it in his neck. Moving quickly, Reynolds goes to the next man, reaches up and has the unsuspecting enemy in a choke-hold and proceeds to snap his neck with ease. None too gently pushing the dead man to the side, Brock looks up to see Ray struggling to take out the final man.

Perry was engaged in a tight hand-to-hand fight; each back matching the other's blows and strikes with ease. Brock watches, takes aim with his weapon and waits for a shot to open, when the fighter twisted Ray around and pinned him to a tree. The enemy reared back to take the final blow when his head snaps to the side and he falls to the ground.

"I said no firearms!" he yells through gritted teeth. "Dammit, Brock!"

"Not going to apologize for saving your life." Brock walks over, picks up the scrambler along the way and pockets it, then stops by Ray's side. "We need to clean that out before we move."

How'd that get there? Ray thinks as he looks down at the cut on his upper leg. It wasn't long, but it appeared to be pretty deep. He sighs, "I'm fine. Let's hide the bodies and go. Jase and Sonny are probably waiting for us."

"That needs to be cleaned out, Ray. Out here, it'll get infected quickly."

"And if we use the medicine we have on me, then it turns out Trent and Clay needs it more-"

"You are no good to any of us if you-"

"I ain't talking about this, Brock! Now let's go!"

After tossing the bodies in a gorge and covering them with tree branches, Ray and Brock continued on to the river. They were making good time, which is surprising, all things considered. The foliage was thinning, and soon they didn't need to cut a path through. Brock wanted to turn the scrambler off, but Ray figured it would be best to leave it on for the time being. There was no way to know if someone was monitoring the thing.

With each step they took, the sound of flowing water grew. Their hopes went up slightly, until Ray began to slow his pace.

"We need to stop."

Ray shakes his head, readjusts the hold he has on Brock's arm. "Can't stop. We're almost there."

"We need to stop, Ray!"

"No, just a little further! I can hear the river—shit!"

Perry slips out of Reynolds firm grasp, crumbles against a tree. He's gasping for breath—heck, they both are in the thick, humid jungle—but he is struggling more than Brock is at this point.

"Just for a minute." Brock gets down on one knee, looks at the bloody rag tied around Ray's thigh. It was red through and through, but when he pulled it away, a creamy looking color came with it. "Shit…"

"It's not that bad." Says Ray as he tries to stand up. But he doesn't get far as his leg won't hold his weight. "Just need to wash it out some. I'll be right as rain."

Brock doesn't reply as he removes his pack and pulls out his condensed first aid kit. Before Ray can object, Reynolds stabs the syringe of antibiotics into his leg, then sets to change the dressing. He can hear Ray talking to him, but he tunes him out, too mad to reply. He doesn't want to lose one brother in their efforts to find the missing two. Not on his watch and not if he could help it.

Once Ray's (infected) wound was (somewhat) cleaned, Brock yanks off a long tree limb and hands it to Perry, then continue off in the direction of the river.

Ray uses the branch as a crutch, thinking of the best way to say sorry to Brock. He knew the infection was inevitable, knew that he should've taken the antibiotics right away, but he still believed that he needed to save it for Clay and Trent if they found them.

When we find them, he mentally corrects.

Once the river is within view, Brock and Ray crouch down (as best they can) in the brush. They don't see Sonny or Jason right away, so Perry cups his hands around his mouth and mocks a bird call, a signal they agreed to use in comms were out of the question. A couple of seconds passed before the same call resounds, carried by the rushing waves. After that, Jason and Sonny stepped out of the tree line half a klick down river.

The men update each other on what they found—or more accurately, what they didn't find. Now they had to decide on what to do next.

"Sounds like you two had all the fun." Sonny quips as they get ready to move again, flexing his aching hand. "All we've seen are slimy trees and colorful frogs."

"So many frogs." Jason rubs his swollen left arm, where he unintentionally fell against one—or was it a family?—of the aforementioned colorful frogs. "You good, Ray?"

No one comments on how pale Ray appears to be, how he isn't even putting weight on his leg.

"Yeah. You two?"

No one comments on what appears to be an angry rash on Sonny's hand, or how puffy Jason's arm is getting by the minute.

"Fine."

"Jus' dandy."

Brock watches the men closely, opting to bring up the rear so he has all three of them in his sight. He knew no one was going to risk slowing down, not when they suspected Clay was so close. Whatever their problems, they kept it to themselves, and would deal with the ramifications once their brothers were safe.

#

Things could be worse.

That is what Clay constantly tells himself as he and Trent work their way through the thickening jungle brush. The ringing in his ears turned into a ringing in his right ear, which is troublesome because it throws everything off. He keeps Trent on his right side, slightly ahead of himself, just in case something foreign appears on his left… but still, they're screwed if something comes from the right.

Because Trent is pretty out of it.

And therefore (mostly) useless.

Four has barely said a word. Any form of communication has been nothing more than a grunt or a huff, and Six can't even tell if the other man even understands him at this point. Clay knows Trent taught them a lot about concussions and head wounds while with Bravo, but this had to be more than a simple concussion because all of the worse possibilities ran through his mind. And surely, surely, he couldn't get just a concussion in the middle of the freaking jungle?

Right?

Because things could be worse.

So, nope.

Trent suddenly doubles over and dry heaves onto a strange looking plant, spitting up the bit of water Clay managed to get him to drink not even ten minutes ago. He stays hunched over a solid minute, maybe even two… was definitely pushing three when Clay's worry increased.

Okay, then… (almost) definitely worse than a concussion. They walked for a few more minutes before they were forced to stop again, though this time, it wasn't Trent's fault.

"Oh, no…"

And things got worse.

A group of ten fighters camped no more than fifty yards ahead of them. It appeared they were gearing up for something, as they were huddled over a table with maps spread about. They were armed to the nines. There was no way Clay could lead them around without being seen.

A plan slowly forms in Spenser's chiming mind.

He leads Trent over to a hollowed-out tree, raises his finger to his lips when the other man tries to squirm out. "Stay here, Trent. I'm going to lead them away. I'll be right back, okay? Stay put."

Then he's disappears into the dense brush.

If Trent could have stopped him, hell, even gone instead, he would have. Because he knows Jason is going to kill him for letting the kid go.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the lovely feedback on the previous chapter. IWNLYD(SC) is quickly winding down, so hold tight! Enjoy!

Their only plan was to stick by the river. If Clay and Trent could, they would head for a river, get out in the open for ISR to stop them. That was all they had to go on. All they had to hold on to.

Staying inside the thick tree line, they followed the flowing water, keeping an eye out for their missing brothers. Brock mentally noted any and all changes with the other three men—how Jason kept his left arm tucked close to his body, how Sunny could barely hold his weapon correctly—but he kept his comments and concerns muted for the time being. So long as they were up and moving fine—except for Ray who hobbles with his stick—he'd keep quiet. And they'd keep walking.

They walked in silence. The sound of the water to their right and the pressure of the jungle to their left. It felt as if they were walking a fine line towards the bitter unknown. No one dare speak, as no one knew what to even say.

That's when they heard the explosion.

They stop, look around, then Sonny sees something. "Over there, ten o'clock!"

Brock sees the movement first. A blurry figure dodging and weaving through the trees across the river. Gunfire soon filled the air, just as the figure took a sharp right, narrowly avoiding another small explosion.

"Is that-"

"Six!" someone shouts, but there is too much going on. But there is also no doubt the person running is their kid.

And he's got a group of fighters on his tail.

Jason looks around, spies something they can use. "Sonny, help Ray up to that ledge and take those guys out. Brock, with me."

Everyone took off as quick as they could manage. Sonny and Ray took up overwatch position while Brock and Jason worked on getting across the river.

Thankfully, this section of the river wasn't very wide, nor the flowing water too deep to wade through. Using the cover of their brothers and a few boulders, Hayes and Reynolds splash through the knee-high waves, circling up behind the fighters.

Another explosion sounds, followed by more gun fire. They take out three fighters in quick succession, then follow the others and repeat their actions. With Quinn and Perry giving overwatch, the enemy is dwindled down to nothing and the jungle quiets down to its normal song.

"Clay? Clay!" Jason whisper-shouts as he walks over the bodies. "Dammit, kid! Spenser!?"

"Jase?" Clay peers around a tree slowly, unsure if his poor hearing and the jungle are still playing games with him. "Brock?"

"Hey there, brother." Brock slowly walks over, not wanting to startle the other man who has been lost in the jungle for days. But that doesn't stop him from bringing the kid in for a hug all the same. "Damn… it's good to see you."

Clay finds himself bringing his arms up, pushes aside the tingly feeling in his right hand and accepts this is, in fact, real. Brock is here. And Jason. "Hey."

His voice breaks. And he's not afraid to admit it.

Jason only offers a nod, remains tuned in to the job at hand. "What's your status?"

Spenser tells him all he can remember. Heading for exfil with Alpha, taking contact, being close to the RPG as it blew, crawling through the brush, hearing shot to hell at one point, being cold, then hot, then getting bit by a nonvenomous snake while trying to get it away from Trent and leading the fighters through the-

"Trent!" he gasps, suddenly realizing that he left his brother tucked into a tree. "I left him alone! I gotta go back for him!"

Jason and Brock can't do anything as Clay runs—limps—off, back in the direction he came, leading them to the tree where he left Trent.

The only problem?

Trent isn't there.

"No. Nonononono, I left him right here! I told him to stay and I'd be back and-" Clay wavers slightly, leans over gasping. "He has a-a head wound and I think its bad. He-he... I think he may have a br-"

Clay is cut off suddenly at the sound of scuffling coming from the fighters camp. He walks over with Brock and Jason, weapons raised, and see Trent fighting off an armed male.

The fighter is slammed against a table by the SEAL, but still has a decent angle to punch the American in the side twice. When Trent rears back, the fighter jumps at the opening and pushes him back into a nearby tree. Hard.

Trent is stunned and the air is forced out of his lungs. He fights to see through blurry, watery eyes. But when he does, he sees the fighter crawling on the jungle ground towards a radio that was dropped in their struggle. With a small surge of energy, Trent goes for the fighter, knife in hand. Sawyer slits the fighters throat just as he reached the radio.

"Trent?"

"K'id?" Trent turns at the sound of his name. He sees Clay first, looking a little more ragged than he left to draw the rest of the camp away, but that's to be expected. After he blinks dirt (and pain) from his eyes, he sees Jason next. "Boss?"

Brock isn't even upset at not being mentioned (or noticed). He's just glad Trent is alive.

Clay speaks up as he walks over, "I told you to stay in the tree!"

Trent huffs, leans against a tree for support as he narrows his unfocused eyes at the kid. Then he simply uses the bloody knife in his hand and points to a dead fighter, still clinging to a radio. "I h-had to stop 'im."

Can't argue with that logic.

Jason, having taken possession of the scrambler, finally turns it off. After waiting a few seconds, he radios Ray, telling him they have Trent and Clay and for Sonny to radio base so they can make an exfil plan.

The walk back to the river takes some time. Once they arrive, the sun was nearly set. Sonny said base would be in contact soon, as they were having a hard time figuring where they could land. However, as time dragged by, it looked like they would be making camp for one more night. Clay didn't seem to mind… spending a night in the jungle with your brothers is much better than spending it alone.

And exfil would be there soon enough. That's what he held on to, what they all held on to.

The sooner that happened, the sooner Ray could get his leg taken care of,

Sonny could get something for his tingly hand.

Jason could get answers as to why his left arm looks like a balloon.

Trent could get his head looked at.

Clay could be treated for… who even knows at this point. Probably everything.

Brock, the most able bodied SEAL, just wanted to go home. He really misses Cerberus.

Crossing the river, however, isn't as easy the second go around. The once calm, knee-high waves were now lapping around their hips and they weren't able to cross back at the same spot as before. With light fading quickly, they couldn't risk being separated by the water when exfil comes, so they were left with no choice but to walk through at a wider section of the river.

Going first, Jason grabs a hold of Trent by the back of his shirt collar and they slowly—but as quickly as they can—cross the river. Sonny was there to greet them with one of two emergency blankets when they reach the bank. Good thing they don't mind sharing. The temperature was falling just as it began to rain.

"Ray, you still good?" Hayes asks, taking note that Perry looks a little worse for wear. But he's holding himself together well enough, so maybe that's something.

"Solid. Ready to… to get out of this j-jungle."

"I told you it's an awful place!" Quinn says, trying—and failing—to ignore the burning pain in his hand.

"Yeah, yeah… we know, we know…" Ray mutters as he fights off sleep.

Back on the other side of the river, Brock and Clay prepare to cross. The drizzle picked up into a steady flow of large raindrops and with the fading sun it was nearly impossible to see the rest of the team on the opposite bank.

"After you, kid." Brock says, gesturing for Clay to go first. They had to move quickly, before the river became too hazardous to cross. That and Reynolds really didn't want to let the kid out of his sight again.

"Aren't we pass the "kid" nickname by now?" Spenser asks through chattering teeth as the water laps around their waists. They were more than halfway to the other side now.

"No. And we'll nev-"

The shots come out of nowhere.

It echoes loudly through the jungle and is carried by the waves. The raging waters boomed as the sun disappeared, and eventually the jungle calmed into tune with the steady pitter-patter of rain striking the ground.

Through the darkness, Jason couldn't see anything.

But he knows for certain.

Brock and Clay are gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm (slightly) sorry. But there's only one more (lengthy) chappy and then it'll be finished. Just in time for the Season Two Finale! :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the final chapter. Its long, and a lot goes on. Enjoy!

It is the pull of the current that jolts him awake.

That, and the biting cold as he is swept down river.

Clay fights to keep his head above the choppy waves as flashes of talking to Sonny when Quinn was trapped in the torpedo tube slammed around in his mind. More than once he dipped under, and more than once did he surface coughing up water. Spenser is at the mercy of the current as it continues to pull him in with an unrelenting hold, while the rain that once poured down from the heavens stopped and gave way to the moon.

That is how he spotted Brock mere feet ahead of him.

Alternating between floating and sinking, he too was trapped in the water's vice.

Clay propels himself forward, tries to aim for his brother, but the water is working against the both of them. The currents hold is strong, the flow of the river swift. Clay couldn't fight the two at the same time, couldn't reach Brock as he dipped under the waves again and again.

The young SEAL yells as he was slammed into something beneath the waves. Water rushes into my mouth, he gags, gasps, spits it out. He blinks, doesn't see Brock. Panic bubbles in his chest, he dips under the water and this time when he surfaces seconds later, he sees him.

Clay fights to reach him.

With everything he had.

But so did the current.

He tried again and again.

When he finally felt a break, felt the force of the current lessen, Clay surged forward, reached through the water, and grabbed onto Reynolds with everything he had before Brock could vanish beneath the waves once more.

"B-Brock?" he mutters through chattering teeth. The other SEAL was limp, and Clay couldn't do anything for him until they were out of the river. "C'mon, buddy, c'mon… c'mon…"

In the moonlit night, Spenser could barely make out the river's bank. He did all he could to angle them toward it, used all his strength to keep their heads above the water, fought to keep kicking his legs, fought to hold on just a little bit longer-

-then his right foot finds the bottom. Then his left. And he crawled and dragged them both to shore, out of the water's hold, onto dry land. He forced his waning energy into dragging Brock to the cover of a small tree nearby, tried to focus on breathing in and out over and over.

He coughs, reaches out and places his numb fingers to Brock's neck…waits…can't feel anything. He leans down, tries to listen for any breath sounds, when a sharp pain bursts over the entire right side of his body.

All of the sudden, Clay could feel himself fading.

He reaches for his comms, keys the button just as he collapses onto the muddy ground and prays that Jason would hear his plea for help.

#

"NO!" Sonny shouts. At what, no one knows. Could be the river for carrying away his brothers, could be the shooter, could be the very cosmos itself. "Dammit, n-"

Jason tackles Quinn to the ground as shots continued to pepper the ground. He pulls him back into the thick of the brush and is prepared to go back out for Trent and Ray when he sees the medic dragging his (former) 2IC right on his heels. And no sooner than when they disappeared back in the jungle did the gunfire stop.

Hayes asks after a beat of silence, "Anyone get eyes on?"

"I can't see shit out there!" Sonny replies as he looks through his scope. The rain, now relenting slightly, is still too much.

Jason nods, not really expecting a reply from Trent or Ray. Then he noticed Sawyer looking at an all-to-still Ray and, most notably, his wound. "Trent?"

It takes a second, but Trent replies brokenly, "He's... he's, uh…dammit… Ray's going into septic s-shock."

Hayes feels his heart drop. In the middle of the jungle? With no timetable on exfil? "Can you help him?"

Trent pinches the bridge of his nose, lets out a huff of pain and frustration. "Yeah, the uh, antibiotics? Do you have-"

Jason tears through his bag, listening to Ray's quick breathing as he searches for the antibiotics. "We only have one left."

"It may buy him time…" Trent takes the syringe in a shaky hand before Sonny or Jason could stop him and quickly, but somehow carefully, inserts the needle.

"What about Brock and Clay? We can't just sit here like ducks waiting to be picked off."

"We aren't." Jason shoves his gear down into his bag and pulls it back onto his shoulders. "You're staying here with Ray and Trent while I head down river. I'll find them, bring them back."

"The hell you are!" Sonny sits up quickly and wavers, which was easily noticed by Jason. "You ain't goin' on a SEAL search by your lonesome."

"You aren't com-"

"B-Brav-o S-Six t-to B-Bravo O-One…" comes a low and broken crackle through their radios, effectively stopping their argument. "F-Fiv-e ne-needs y-your h-hel-" The radio cuts off and doesn't come back on.

"He… he said Bravo? Don't he know we ain't a team?" Sonny asks in a growing panic. "Did he hit his head? Take a bullet? And what about Brock? Where the hell are they? We gotta go find 'em, Jase!"

"I will, Son!" Jason snaps, but he didn't mean to. Most of his brothers could barely stand on their own two feet, and now all of them needed some form of medical assistance. This rescue op will just reaffirm Shaw's point: he isn't cut out to be a leader. No anymore. But Hayes will be damned if he doesn't get them all home, just one last time. "I'm going to get them, Sonny. I need you to stay here and watch over Trent and Ray, okay?"

"I'm going with you."

Jason looks over his shoulder. Trent is standing, geared up and weapon in hand. If you were to walk up on the scene, you would never suspect that he may have a (major) head injury because he was hiding all the pain he felt rather well.

"Trent-"

"Don't, Jason." Sawyer walks forward, falters on his first step them rights himself. "I'm going."

It went without saying they didn't know what physical state Clay and Brock are in, what kind of medical assistance they will need. But even with a head injury, Trent was still the most qualified SEAL between all of them to handle whatever situation may wait for them down river.

"Okay, fine. Sonny, inform base of a shooter near your current pos, update them on Ray and tell them Trent and I went to look for Clay and Brock. Let us know the ETA on our exfil."

"Copy that." Quinn crawls over to an unconscious Ray and checks his vital so he'll know of any changes before pulling out his radio. From his position on the ground, he watches Trent follow Jason deeper into the jungle.

Praying in more of Ray's area, but Sonny definitely sent one up as his brothers vanished from his reassuring view.

#

Jason scanned the river bank for any sign of Brock and Clay. They walked just inside the jungle line, unseen from the outside, but with a clear view from the inside. He was using his eyes to scan the ground, but he kept his ears tuned to Trent who walked slightly ahead of him.

Clay didn't say what kind of head injury Trent may have sustained. And when they first saw the medic, he appeared to be pretty out of it. But now? He seemed as focused as ever.

That's probably a red flag… right?

But it isn't at the time being.

Because it's a really, really good thing.

"Jason, over here!" he says as he, somehow, quickens his pace through the thick brush. Trent pushes his way through a few trees, comes up to a small opening. "Brock, can y-you hear me? Come on, man…."

Hayes stops short as Trent drops to his knees by Reynolds' side. With the moonlight that broke through the canopy, they could see he is soaking wet, and pale. Trent places two fingers to his clammy neck.

"-I can't f-find a p-pulse." Trent mutters as he shakes his numb fingers and tries again. The words were barely loud enough for Jason to hear. Trent looks up and around, asks, "Where's-"

Jason is already running over to Spenser who is but a few feet away. "I've got him!"

Hayes wastes no time in checking Clay, running his hands over the kid's all too cold form. When his hand brushes over something sticky on Clay's right shoulder, he stops and takes a closer look. "Uh… he's got a GSW to his shoulder. No exit wound, not bleeding much, but he's… he's too cold. Trent?"

Jason spares a glance over his shoulder, like he has done many times on this doomed op, and he nearly stops breathing.

Trent is doing aggressive CPR on Brock. Very, very aggressive. Through gasps and wheezes of breath—for himself and for his friend—Trent says, "O-okay, the… pack the GSW 'nd y-you'll h-have to w-warm him up."

Jason doesn't know where to start. "How the hell am I supposed to do that!?"

Sawyer doesn't slow his chest compressions, speaks in-between giving Brock breaths of air. "Get his… wet clothes off. Wake-w-wake him up… U-use the e-emergency… blanket-dammit, B-Brock, c'mon!"

Jason tries to work on Clay and tries to watch Trent as he tends to Brock. Time seems to slow as he mutters over and over, "Okay, Clay, just hang on. You hear me, kid? Just hang on. We're gonna get you warm and back home and we'll be just fi-"

"It's n-not w-working!" Trent yells, startling Jason. "W-why isn't i-it working?! Brock, breathe, dammit, breathe! Come on!"

"JASON!"

Hayes' head snaps up, eyes go wide when he sees Sonny jogging towards them, with Ray over his shoulders in the classic soldiers carry.

"Sonny, what the fu-"

"Exfil-" Sonny gasps, slows slightly when he sees his brothers and long enough to add, "exfil is half a klick away in a small field! Ray's in bad shape! We gotta move!"

Jason nods, wrapping Clay up in the emergency blanket and standing with the kid held tight in his arms. It made him look more like that… a kid. "Trent, let's go!" Hayes yells as he gets ready to move. "Trent!"

"H-he's s-still n-not-" Trent doesn't bother finishing his thought, doesn't stop chest compressions. Trent isn't even sure how long he's been doing CPR, or how long Brock has been without oxygen.

He can't stop now.

But if his brain has been deprived for too long-

"What th-no!" Trent feels someone grab onto both of his arms, pulling him away from Brock. Even in his weakened state, Trent fights against the hold. "No! NO, I c-can't… I have to-"

Jason watches helplessly as two men appeared out of the brush—where they came from, he has no clue (though if he could recall his short conversation with Sonny about exfil, that would probably help). One of them grabs onto Trent and pulls him through the jungle and the other goes over to Brock and hoists him onto his shoulder, following close by.

Yet another appears in front of Hayes (probably from the same place as the other two). Jason thinks the man's mouth is moving, and he finds himself nodding regardless, though he is sure he can't hear what is being said. Then he understands as Clay is pulled from his arms and the other man takes off, leaving Jason to follow.

Sure enough there is a small, very small, clearing half a klick ahead. Jason panics when he doesn't see Sonny or Ray. Someone picks up on this, lets him know that a different chopper already left and headed back to base, but it isn't enough to ease his worry.

Jason looks at Clay, who is being tended to by the man who took him from Hayes. The night is still young, but the moon is high. He can see the blood seeping through the gauze and out from the kid's shoulder, the black and blue bruises that covered his right side. The man points to his hand, says something to the pilot.

"What? What is it? What's wrong?"

The man looks at Jason, tries not to give anything away. "Snake bite. Don't know how bad."

"He's… he was out there for days…" Jason struggles to find his words. "He didn't have… antivenom or-"

"The snake wasn't venomous." The man says quickly as he works to treat the many wounds that littered the SEALs body. "It appears something else is going on."

It felt like a century passed before they landed at the base. Jason steps out of the chopper, out of the way of his brothers and the doctors who were tasked with keeping them alive. Clay was loaded onto a stretcher and whisked away surrounded by a team of men and women yelling medical jargon. Brock quickly followed in the same manner, with one of the men from the chopper still doing CPR as he was wheeled away.

Jason isn't sure what happens next.

Something crashes in the chopper. He looks and sees Trent slumped forward. One of the men they flew over with yells something and more medical personal run towards him. Sawyer is stripped of his gear, placed on the stretcher, and taken away.

"Wh-what happened?" Hayes says as he watches another brother vanish into the building.

"I don't know, sir. They'll figure it out."

Jason nods, accepting this, trying to believe it. "Yeah, yeah, okay-"

"You should get checked out as well, Master Chief. Your arm lo-Master Chief?!"

Without warning, Jason's world turns fuzzy, and it's hard to breathe. He reaches out, grips the side of the chopper, struggles to keep the edges of his vision from turning black. The world tilts to the side. Then the world tilts back. The last thing he is aware of is something being placed on his face.

Then… nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue coming later today (before the season finale).


	8. Chapter 8

Commander Shaw stood in a briefing room, surrounded by other members of brass and techs who monitored the situation as it slowly came to a close. He watched the events unfold from a screen in front of him, was kept in the loop of how things fared on the ground as the exfil team worked on bringing the team he disbanded back to the base in country.

He waited patiently for an update on the men, after he was informed that they were all in need of varying degrees of medical attention. He waited for Lt. Commander Vess to inform him of the status of Alpha Team as well. He waited for someone to tell him the mission was not a complete failure. He waited for news. Any news.

But there is a lot more he doesn't know.

Shaw doesn't know Jason came in contact with toxins from multiple dart frogs and subsequently had a poor (and delayed) reaction to the poisons. His status is unclear as they are waiting for treatment to kick in (which is taking too long in and of itself). Jason did everything he could to get his brothers home, no matter what it took, least of all putting aside his own medical needs. And whether or not Shaw saw him as a leader, those SEALs would follow him anywhere, no matter what they were up against.

Shaw doesn't know Ray went into septic shock, was in the (very, very) early stages of gas gangrene when he was wheeled into the operating room. His status is also unknown at the time as doctors work to save his leg and his life. Ray was willing to postpone his own treatment in the field, just in case his lost brothers needed it more than he did. In the end, it may cost him.

Shaw doesn't know Sonny had to be treated for a poison contracted from caterpillars. He wasn't responding well to obvious treatments, and his symptoms only get worse. Breathing treatments aren't helping and his airway is getting smaller. Doctors were working on alternatives, but they are up against a swiftly moving clock and had very few options going forward.

Shaw doesn't know Trent suffered a head injury, most notably a slow brain bleed that only increased the longer he was trudging through the jungle. The doctors had little problems locating and controlling the bleed, but now Sawyer won't wake up. And no one knows why.

Shaw doesn't know Brock drowned. Actually drowned. They don't know how long he was under water, or how long CPR was performed before he was brought to base. He developed hypoxia and the doctors were forced to place him in a medically induced coma to allow his brain time to recover. On top of that, he was badly bruised from being tossed into rocks and logs while trapped in the rivers current, and a small branch had pierced his lower leg. The doctors were worried about the location of the branch, the nerves and muscles it damaged. There was no way of knowing if it would heal properly, or if Brock would be able to walk correctly, until he woke up. If he woke up.

And Shaw doesn't know it is simply a miracle—or pure stubbornness—that Clay is even alive. He was dehydrated, exhausted, his right eardrum was badly damaged (his left slightly less damaged), he was bruised and cut all over, and he as having an allergic reaction to a nonvenomous snake bite. However problematic those things are, the doctors were really worried about the GSW to his right shoulder. The bullet was resting on top of his nicked subclavian artery, making it very difficult for the doctors to remove. Each time they tried, his pressure bottomed out, and they couldn't control the bleeding underneath until it was removed.

Shaw doesn't know what those men went through to save their brothers. He doesn't realized what they were willing to do to make sure they all made it home. How they put their lives on the life, even though they weren't a team.

How Perry, Quinn and Reynolds followed Hayes without question when they found out Sawyer and Spenser were MIA.

Maybe Master Chief Hayes knew what he was doing.

Maybe he is a good leader.

And maybe Commander Shaw make a mistake disbanding Bravo Team.

But would the SEALs be alive for him to fix his mistake?

"Commander Shaw? Lt. Commander Vess is on the line with an update on the team, sir."

Maybe he would find out sooner rather than later.

-FIN-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't sure how I wanted to end this story, even though it is an AU of sorts. I'm not big on AUs anyway so I felt it was best to leave it open-ended, with a bit of hope, as season two comes to a close.
> 
> Thank you all so very much for reading this fic as we waited for the season two finale. I hope this story made the wait seem shorter and that you enjoyed the ride. Until next time! :)


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